Letters
by Bronze-and-Navy-is-Creating
Summary: Where will letters from a depressed she'll of a ghost lead? E/C
1. Chapter 1

This is an odd method of storytelling that will preoccupy the first half of this fic. But I rather liked writing it. Hope you enjoy!

O.G.

Dear Christine,

I know it is presumptuous for me to be writing you. Even more presumptuous that you will read it. And completely unreasonable that you shall respond. But I grow desperate in the closing hours. All I ask is you read on words before making a final decision on this letter. Forgive me my dear, if it does indeed turn out to be the ramblings of a mad man. But I ramble I must.

Firstly, I shall start out this letter with a note of comfort for yourself. I have no idea what address this letter will be sent to. Nadir is to send it, with strict instructions not to give any indication of your address. I shall not follow. I shall not be within a hundred kilometres to yourself. In fact I do not think we reside in the same country any more, for, after an extensive and ongoing recovery I have relocate to somewhere else in Europe. I have no plans to hurt anyone ever again, including your fiance. Nor will I intrude on your lives beyond this initial letter (unless I am allowed to send more after this, but more on that later). But this first letter is a must, I feel, for us both.

The second thing I must address is the first purpose of this letter.

I know I am not redeemable, after the monstrosities I have made you, and others endure. I understand that now. I know I have no chance in any hell or world for forgiveness, from anyone. Nor do I require it. But what is required of me, if I hope to sleep at all, is an apology. I have no idea how to express the regret I feel for my actions. I punish myself nightly over it. I do not sleep, or eat. Nadir has more than once forced a feeding tube upon me coupled with sedatives in order to keep me alive.

I do not walk. During the events of that night I was… assaulted, by the mob. I am not bitter about it, for it was a well deserved beating and aftermath. But unfortunately- or morally speaking, fortunately- I lost a leg at down point. Nadir has been trying to convince me to invent a prosthetic or even wear a current model. I refuse. I do not deserve such a luxury as basic independence. Instead I crawl, if I need to move at all.

I do not speak. This one I do not even understand myself but I am grateful for my punishment in it. Everytime I open my mouth it is only silence that escapes me. I do not understand why but what use is a voice to me anyways. My music fled from me as did majority of my life that night. Without it, I see no great use for the noise to begin with.

Personally I feel all of it is not enough punishment. I deserve only the pits of hell as retribution. Accompanying this fact I tell you that I am, truly, sorry. For all I did. And only ask that you do not forgive me, for I know that can never be deserved. And if you ever did consider it, even as a fleeting thought, it is only a mark that you truly are a blessing upon this Earth.

With this explanation I must move on to the second purpose of this exceedingly long letter. In my months of silent thought I… I find myself falling to madness Christine. True madness. Last year I was a mad man yes, but I still had a shred of understanding of my surroundings. Of you at the very least. But now I am forgetting where I am and the pendulum of the axe swings low in myself prison. Sometimes it seems I forget all. My mind runs truly blank. Memories gone. Recently I have trouble remembering the names of simple household items. Normally I would say this too is just punishment but there are two things wrong with this idea.

Firstly, if I grow truly mad, and forget all I know, become the true shell that I have been turning into, then I run the risk of losing the only precious thing I have in this world. The one thing that I value more than my own punishment.

You. The memory of you. The one act of true kindness or undeserved tenderness that has ever been spared for me. That one kiss that has become my only life line in all of this. I cling to it. Hord it in my darkest moments, much like a dragon settled over its golden horde. This most important memory, and the memory of just, well, you, is something that I feel I must fight to keep. This has become my main motivation for writing you.

My second and slightly lesser fear of madness stems from the fact it was madness that born me into a monster last year. I did lose some sanity along the way. Personally I blame myself as well as my self imposed solitude that lasted far too long. I fear of its return. Of losing all senses but this time in an even more severe way. It feels as if when we kissed, I had a second, one second, of fresh air. A reset of my mental health if you will. And I would like to preserve as much as that air as possible, lest I drown.

So it is this reason, a reason of madness, that I wrote you Christine. To beg for one more act of mercy on your part, even if I do not deserve it. I ask simply that… you reply. To this.

You see. Ever since I had this idea of writing you, I have felt a bit better. I had down form of purpose, even if it was only for a short time. I discovered I want- no, require, something to look forward to, if I wish to have some form of way to stay… me. Or what is left of me. And the only thing I can think of is a letter from you. It can be about anything. It can be about your hatred for me for all I care, but all I ask is for some word from you. I know I have not and never shall earn this right to ask this if you but I find myself so utterly needing it.

If you choose to accept, I can promise you that all you will ever receive from me are letters. I shall never approach you again unless you ask me to do so. I will not burden you with a lump of letters, but rather, one and only one in response to your own.

If you wish for some form of self justification, think of it as how our once friendship began. A correspondent and companion that existed only in words and notes. It is clear we can at least, be in a relationship such as that. One where I am distant but there.

I ask you this one last mercy Christine, fully expecting rejection and silence. But I ask I must.

I truly hope this letter finds you happy and well. That he does make you happy, that is all I can wish for you. I hope and dream that when you read this your heart is as light as any summer breeze, and your eyes are bright and cheerful.

If you respond, please do let me know if I may reply to that letter as well. If I get any response and it is only hatred and a wish to forget I live, than you shall never hear from me again. That much I can promise.

If you have gotten this far, thank you, for at the very least reading this.

Know that you are always loved Christine,

~Erik

O.G.

please review! More to come!


	2. Chapter 2

As promised

O.G.

Dear Erik,

It was difficult to think of a response at first to this letter. When I saw the handwriting on the top, I admit, I fainted. It was a challenge to play off fainting mind you but I simply said I required water and it rid me off the maids presence.

I was. Conflicted, emotionally. Before I even opened the letter. I was told you had died and I did in fact, and was until I got this letter, mourning you. Despite what happened last year, I do not think I will ever forget the friend you once were to me, even if I was brutally betrayed. So my heart grew both joyous in the knowledge that you lived- unless by some cruel date it was actually a will or something along those lines- and angry at the fact you were contacting me. I admit I postponed reading it for several hours before the curiosity finally got to me.

And upon reading your letter I have to address this first.

EAT! SLEEP! ERIK!

I grew exceedingly worried as I read on, and despite myself and what I should feel, I could only feel a great anxiety for my old mentor. In fact I am so concerned over your health I hired a special delivery man to take it to you directly and within the fortnight. I pray you are actually reading this and are not dead. I am in a constant state of anxiety for your response to confirm you are still alive.

Erik. I will not lie when I say I grew beyond worried for you when I read of your condition. Regardless if I do correspond after this, I need you to swear you will eat, at least one meal daily. And sleep at least five hours nightly. I need to know you will for I worry for your health and experiencing your death a second time would be far too much for me to handle.

Secondly. Please stop punishing yourself. Repentance comes by work not pain alone. If you truly wish for some form of repentance, even if you feel you will never truly be forgiven to yourself, do something good for others. Charity, donation of time, anything. It is far better and more useful than starving yourself.

Now for your other two problems that are less in your control. I understand, or think I do, why you are reluctant to walk. Lose of something like your leg is devastating and debilitating for anyone, especially if it is a result of trauma like you experienced. My only advice to that issue is take your time and do try. Nadir is there to help you and so have him help. Even if it's only small improvements first, such as strengthening your remaining limb so you can hopefully have the strength for the prosthetic. I think having mobility will have a better effect on you than you think, mentality wise.

Now for your voice… I was, I admit, heartbroken to think something as beautiful as your voice was gone. I know you say you don't need it but I think you do. You say you are a shell but you needn't remain one. I don't want you to remain one. But in order to be yourself again you at least need your voice to speak if not sing. I can understand your reluctance towards music, for I have a similar problem myself currently, but having a voice can be essential in a time like this. A way to represent yourself. I know it is more out of your control than your other issues but I think it can begin to be solved by first accepting the fact you do need to try to regain it. I know you and I know how much sound means to you. Try reading books on speech therapy for I have never faced this issue before and they might be better equipped to help you. And this in turn might help your madness problem.

But I do think you are right about letters helping you. In a sense anyways. While I wish I could discourage you from obsessing I would be a hypocrite to do so. But having something- anything- to look forward to in a mass depression can be life saving. I know because our lessons were once exactly that for me, after papa died. And so, it would be fair, would it not? For me to be once what you were to me? Someone to confide in and look forward to. I will get to my final response momentarily to your request, I only ask you wait slightly longer.

I need to address the topic of forgiveness before I get any further.

Erik this was… the most difficult point that I had to think many long hours over. On the one hand, you betrayed me. You tortured a man I love. Tried to kidnap me. Murdered. But…

On the other hand. You were there for me when I needed you most. You gave me a passion that led to some of the most freeing moments of my life that I shall forever treasure. And, while a lot of last year was your fault, some of it really must be contributed to the fact you were so severely hated by all. That is a terrible curse to expect a man to bare. And I feel it lightens the severity of your actions, by a small bit at least. It makes it more understandable over incomprehensible. Not to mention you were heavily, and in my opinion overly, punished for your actions. Which also lightens your sentence slightly, to me at least.

So I have reached a fair conclusion I think. I will not forgive you… yet. Instead I will accept you as you are, guilt and all. I will give you this only chance to work for this forgiveness. It is attainable in my eyes, but only just. Rebuild yourself into being a better man. Not a bitter ghost but someone respectable and kind. Someone I could tell a child about and they would look up to you. If you can manage that, then I shall forgive you.

In the meantime, I will be by your side to help you as long as you try. I agree to corresponding with you and completely expect both a response to all my letters, and only honesty in them. I will be to you as you once were to me.

Now that we have all that out of the way I will give you a brief update of my life, as writing the idea of writing to you with a somewhat settled conscious is soothing.

Firstly, I find myself nervous about music. It is odd to say but you had become such a big part of my performance that I have no idea how to continue without you involved somehow. I don't understand why not do I think I want to yet. But I grow nervous when sing, knowing you aren't there. It falls flat, upsettingly emotionless. I don't know why but perhaps writing you will help. I want to sing and perform as I once did but just, find myself incapable of it.

But my life otherwise has been pleasant enough. The wedding is planned for next spring, ten months from now. Raoul is sweet as ever, though he has to constantly leave for business meetings thanks to his father. Still he seems a bit distant when he comes home from them but after a few hours and some wine he is back to his sweet affectionate self as always.

His parents are acceptable enough. His father a bit strict but his mother, a shy woman, is rather warm. Insists on feeding me at least 8 pastries everytime I see her and my tea cup is never empty in her presence. She is a very good listener as well as we discuss local humdrum nonsense.

When Raoul is out I have tried and failed to take up several hobbies. Currently I am experimenting with hiking and exploring the grounds, as un-ladylike as that sounds. But you know me and you know I am not exactly interested in what is propper. When alone in the mornings I don some more hardy clothes and thick boots before wondering about to the woods. I have had the maid keep quiet about it as no one needs to know of my little adventures that have been bringing me quite some joy recently. I love seeing the little wildlife around the estate, and researching them later as I am curious by nature.

I hope to hear from you soon and to find you in better health. I do worry about you Erik, and I pray you take my advice.

With care,

Christine

O.G.

Hope you enjoyed, please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Not gonna lie I love this kind of story telling.

O.G.

Dear Christine,

Words fail me at how grateful I am for your response, and promise of continuing response. I was truly surprised to see your urgent reply. I will not deny I actually wept on reading of your mercy. I swear I will do my best with this chance you have given me.

I shall follow your advice and request after I finish this letter. I can not promise to sleep for a true five hours as sleep has always been fleeting, but I will try I swear. I will consider your words of charity, but I am no use to anyone in my current state. But when I am healthy I will figure out some way to try it.

As for my leg I will also try to correct it. My voice I… wish to postpone. I feel it's fruitless with only nadir talk to.

Also another thing you mentioned encouraged my morbid sense of humour. Your mourning is technically not wasted, as I did die once while nadir tried to revive me after the incident. But he brought my pulse back and here we are. Forgive me if my humour is tasteless but the thought was entertaining to me.

That is enough about me. Unless you want to read about half an hour over staring at a wall and tracing patterns in it. It is time I talk about you. I'm glad you are happy Christine. And traversing about the forest is not a bad way to spend time. Just be sure to avoid stepping into bushes, as I would be heartbroken to hear your fallen ill from a snake bite. If you would like suggestions in books over local wildlife please let me know.

I am also glad to hear you are getting along well with his family and him. I have no advice over how to restore your music, as that is something that seems painful to us both. I can only wish it returns to you soon, as your voice is a gift only surpassed by you yourself. Do tell me how planning and dealing with him goes, it may sound odd but at the moment, even early in our new correspondance, I find myself living vicariously through you in a sense. As reading about a life, your life, might be as close as I will ever be to having one of my own.. But, I think I am growing to be accepting of that.

~ With more love than even I understand,

Erik

O.G.

A bit short but hope you all enjoyed! Thank you for the reveiws


	4. Chapter 4

Returning from the depths of college to bring you this

O.G.

Dear Erik,

I truly hope you are keeping your promises that you mentioned previously and are doing better. But I… I have a small rant I suppose. Or observance? No no that's not it, I know. I rather want to gossip to a well. Not exactly unbiased confident but a removed one to something that happened last Tuesday. It has left me with a rather large conflict of feelings.

I had just emerged from the woods a bit after sundown. The nightingales were very charming by the way. But, anyways, as I got closer to the house, I heard yelling from the cigar parlour. Well shouting more like. It was too muffled to hear but as I got closer to the window (going completely unnoticed mind you, I feel like you'd been proud of how well I managed to hide in the magnolias) there was a sudden and a slam at the door, followed by muttered slurred cursing.

Naturally I quickly escaped and went to the stables to hide and freshen up as well I could to hopefully let it look like I had not been traversing through the woods.

And of course Raoul saw through my pretenses. We were alone in the parlour thankfully. He was… well drunk. And in a sour mood. He immediately went on a rant on how I shouldn't go out like that, dangerous, etc. And while you are reading this don't act too smug. Had I… Had I stayed with you you would react similarly I am sure. You were always so overprotective, and I won't lie, it did get on my nerves and now does with Raoul.

But before I could properly rebuttal he stopped mid sentence, and an almost… ashamed look came on his face. And his whole demeanor changed as he hugged me suddenly. He quietly apologized for both over nagging and gis drunken behaviour. Then he kissed me on the cheek and asked if I'd like a picnic lunch tomorrow by a little spring in a park not far off. Just the two of us.

A bit surprised by the change and rather delighted I agreed. He smiled and kissed me good night, claiming to have a headache and rather wishing to skip dinner because of it.

The picnic was nice. We laughed. The weather was kind. Food was exceptional. But… something was off. Near the beginning at least. And then again in the carriage. He seemed distant. Worryingly so. He claimed he was tired but… I feel like he's hiding something. And I hate not knowing.

I know you have no experience with this but… should I be worried? Maybe I'm frustrated to not be in the loop and it comes out as worried. Maybe I'm worried he will always hide it from me. I don't know and I am confused. Is it the wedding? Me? Am I a burden to the man I love somehow? I know his father is not… thrilled to have me, an orphan from nothing. Perhaps his family is bothering him. Oh I wish i knew, why do men have to be so frustrating! You all think you just have to bottle it up, even though it just makes us women worry then we nag out of frustration and then you all get mad and its just a circle of! Of just! Lunacy! And the worst part is none of you know you do it I swear!

Sorry I just. Well. Needed to rant. Megs too busy at the moment so you'll have to hear it. You know sometimes I wish we could just have tea and biscuits because I remember you were always exceptional at conversations like this. More attentive than most. But, for now, it is too much. But… if stars ever align, perhaps one day.

But that is enough about me. By the time you read this it'll have been a bit since your promises. How is your leg? Can I maybe see some blueprints of the prosthetics? Medical practice has always had an odd appeal to me in the world of questions and curiosity. I must have driven Giry crazy about how leg muscles work when I started dancing. But alas, you know I do love my questions.

Also how are you eating and sleeping? What was your dinner? And have you perhaps gained any new hobbies besides studying paint patterns in the wall? I hope you have. A mind like yours should not be wasted. And… I don't know. Lately I find myself hoping that, eventually, you can have a fresh start. A new life at least. Lne free of pain from both you and others. Maybe then you could gain some… moral repentance. I hope that much for you and for others you did wrong. Myself included I suppose.

Anyways, I hope you are well and write back soon, your… your friend. Your friend,

~ Christine


	5. Chapter 5

Hey! Thank you for reviews and please check out the bottom after the chapter! There's an extra treat for you all! Also fair warning this is a long chapter.

O.G.

Dear Christine,

Firstly, I feel I must say this, and forgive me if I return to my old ways for a moment here but…

If anyone. Ever. Even has the faintest notion that you burden them in anyway, I will deprive them of ever square centimeter of skin they posses slowly over a week long period before boiling them alive in a pool of molten metal. You are a blessing upon this Earth and if I could seek retribution upon anyone who ever dared to think otherwise, or hurt you in anyway, I would. And I know I technically know I fall in that category but if I were allowed to go on this mass hunt I would save myself for last do not fear. And I apologize for my morbid thoughts but… well. When you remove literally everything from ones life and let them have a single life line, they will defend it to the ends of the Earth, so I feel justified in a sense for wanting to put an end to any ill will towards you. Though, for your sake, everyone else's, and for the sake of my promises, I shall refrain from hurting anyone so do not fear. These are mere… wishes I suppose? Dark imaginings triggered by wishing to protect you? Anyways, I shall address you fully now, I just needed that rant out of the way myself.

I will warn you now to expect a lengthy letter. And some attachments on the back I will refer to later.

Firstly, your worries over… Raoul. I shall try to be as unbiased as possible but I apologize in advance if I accidently slip in this regard slightly.

It does seem odd. That much is clear. It very well could be as you say, more simple stresses. Or he could be actually tired but… Raoul strikes me, and always has to a worrying degree for your sake, a secretive man. Perhaps that is why you were always do drawn to us both, as that is something I share with him. Though he expresses it differently, as he takes confidence from holding back his thoughts. Shows power subconsciously in what he lets others know. I personally use them as a shield, a thing of safety. A place where dark things like me can lurk.

And you my dear, with your brilliant mind and curiosity, have always seemed to be drawn to such concepts of secrecy and queeries. Something of which I've always loved about you.

If, we work on the most likely answer he is hiding something let us look at the evidence in front of us. Clearly there IS a conflict amongst the aristocratic men in your residence. Now what that might be could stem from anything.

Another clue is it is something that is powerful, whether good or bad. Something that could change your tone towards him if you knew. Which leads me to the conclusion the main tension doesn't fully revolve around you, but something that might cast him in a less than desirable way.

Also, it worth noting he is trying to drown it out with drink. Meaning it might be something he wishes to forget or not think about too deeply. And as you have not done something dreadful to him I would hazard a guess that he has done or is worried about doing something that might make you see him in a way he does not wish to be seen. In which case I would worry far less about your own actions and more about his.

I would keep a close watch on him Christine. It could be something dangerous. Money is never clean from blood. If you feel threatened or if anything happens please tell me. I will not approach you but I will set up a safe escort to a safe location. I do not think Raoul would hurt you persay. But tension, wealth, and danger can lead to disaster upon even the most innocent pf victims. Even if it is only some temporary housing you need while things calm, please just tell me. It terrifies me to be in the dark, and I put my full trust in you to let me know what is happening as I refuse to spy on you, as a part of our arrangement. And I will not force you to do anything, just offer alternatives. I know I sound like a mad man overreacting and perhaps I am but something truly feels amiss to me and all I worry for is your safety.

And as far as tea goes. If you ever dkd desire such a thing, I would move the heavens to be at your door by the end of the week. But I doubt such a blessing would ever come to fruition.

As for myself. Well. Where to begin on your plethora of questions. My leg I suppose, a point of contempt for me at the moment, If I am completely honest. It has been a long time since I have had to do physical therapy of any kind, and I had forgotten how dreadfully tedious it is. And how long it takes for results.

As for my prosthetic it is going equally slow, partially because I find myself in a dilemma over it. I can not decide if I want to construct it in such a way that… that perhaps one day I could play organ again with it. Music has yet to return to me but I can't help hoping it will… along with other things… Ah, but hope has never been much of a friend to me has it? In fact. The only time hope has ever come through for me was when I asked if you would write back to these letters. So it has not completely abandoned me, just it has been terribly and agonizingly frequent in its reluctance to take pity upon my soul.

But I digress. The matter stands - that pun was not intentional - like this. I can design a foot to play organ or a foot with more sturdiness that can handle more physical endurance. I suppose I could make two but… This feels like a decision that should decide if I should abandon help or not. Like a signal to myself…

But upon your adorable curiosities request, I have attached the rough blueprints for both. They still need an extreme amount of work to be viable, much like their creator I suppose. But until I have made my decision, I am at a standstill.

For your next question, have I been eating? Yes. Have I gained weight? Not in the slightest. Does Nadir ever shut up about how I need to eat more - despite the fact I now eat meals more often than I have in years? Of course not. And to go along with that my dinner last night was parmesan chicken, on alfredo pasta, as Nadir insists I eat fattening and hardy. He tried I think to make it to the best of his abilities. I don't know why he bothered. I can hardly smell and therefore hardly taste. But I can taste salt and cheese if it's strong enough, so for my sake I dare say he slathered on a copious amount for me. And it did work, and was rather good from my perspective, though anyone else, even the most loyal of frenchmen, would probably complain it had to much cheese. And unfortunately for Nadir he happens to be slightly allergic to milk. Suffice to say I am glad I do not have a nose. And if this humour is too crass, forgive me. Writing to you tends to make me more open about my life. And as I am officially a mute according to my doctor.

Oh yes, I suppose this is a noteworthy side track. Nadir _made_ me see one of those, can you believe it? Suffice to say my hands work sufficiently to show Nadir a few gestures when a doctor came calling. I dare say Nadir was more upset than I was. Perhaps it is because I already had accepted my mute state as fact and the fool had yet to do so. But to me, strangely, the loss of music in its entirety was more devastating than losing my voice. Perhaps it is because I had viewed it for a long time as a way to communicate with you. You were the first person I had talked to in over a year when we met so perhaps it is that association that kept my voice going at all. And now as my voice is now confined to letter, so I think subconsciously, my mind has done away with it.

Also I do not fully believe myself incapable of it forever as the doctor put it. I still have vocal chords- weakened by now I am sure- but they exist. Western medicine is honestly little more than codswallop if you ask me. Why, the idiot claimed it was because I received a blow to the part of my brain that controls speech. However unlike western medicine I myself have done extensive study on the brain and have concluded that the part of my head that was injured was closer to the section that controls more general movement and spelling. When I was recovering and on an occasional bad day, I sometimes do struggle in those areas. I know you have no way of knowing as you were not there but at first I did have trouble spelling, and would have to write very slowly. It took a few weeks but I recovered well enough. I do write slightly slower than before and on occasion have to reread a few sentences every now and again, but compared to the rest of my injuries, this is so minor I often forget about it. As for movement I did move a bit slower at first, often having to lay in odd positions to remember how to move my hands. But this happens with extremely rare frequency as well and my fingers and limbs work just as well as before. I even faked bowed with a pen once, to be sure. Everything seemed to be fine.

No, I can tell you right now my muteness stems from psychological trauma not physical. But of course I didn't tell them that, as I wanted them to leave me alone about it and having a 'professionals' approval let the matter die out thank god.

Any ways… right your next question. Do I sleep. I… I tried to. I truly did Christine. I still try to its just… I have started to have even worse nightmares than before. They leave me shaking in bed for hours until day break. I do sleep more than before but… not as much as you or Nadir would like I an sure…

As for hobbies, yes actually. One. And it is slightly apparent throughout this letter but, as writing has become my new 'voice' I have started to try and correct my truly awful penmanship. Progress is slow- slower than I'd like- but I hope this letter is slightly easier to read. That is one blessing of my head injury I suppose. It makes me slow down when I write to make sure my spelling is as impeccable as always. And so it has made the actual practice of penmanship easier. I also have included some examples of calligraphy that I have been dabbling in. It isn't the best, as this is an entirely new skill and its one I have discovered I have no natural talent for, but it does pass the time nicely.

And lastly… I have no words to tell you deeply touched I am to still be considered your friend. Thank you Christine, there is no higher honour. Well. Perhaps one more but I have long accepted my fate on that account. But to be your friend is more than I could ever dream of after all that has occured. I thank you Christine. I truly do.

Your eternally grateful friend,

Erik

O.g.

bellow I have links to the added documents. I did the prosthetic blueprints, my fiance who prefers to go by destler when I mention him online, did the calligraphy as it is a hobby of his. And yes he is real. Yes I have photos and witnesses to prove he is. And yes I have an 8 page post on my tumblr on how he is too much like erik to a painful degree. Under the tag my boyfriend the opera ghost and my fiance the opera ghost for more recent ones.

Here are the urls

Hope blueprint (the organ one)

/dcq1rpa

Safe blueprint (the sturdy one)

/dcq1rth

And the calligraphy

/dcq1rgx


	6. Chapter 6

Enjoy!

O.g

Erik,

I… I did not realize how… I'm sorry you had to go through that. I worry for you my friend. I think I have…

I have a solution? Bargin? I don't know what to call it but… if… if I visited you… would it help you sleep or make it worse? It isn't out of pity, if that is your concern, but it is genuinely because I still care about you Erik. A lot. Also it would benefit me. Raoul has been in more and more meetings with his father, and the house is so tense, and planning and… I am overwhelmed. And our letters have been a bit of an escape for me. So maybe… I don't know. A nice weekend visit might be what we needed. Friends can do that much right? I know you'll be silent but, one doesn't need to talk to admire nature.

Just really think on it, and make sure it is something that would be wise for you.

Also, the hope blueprint. The organ will return I just… it has to. Surely, surely not _everything_ in life changes. You are you, even if damaged. And at least you are not beyond repair.

Also the calligraphy was gorgeous. I really will treasure it Erik.

O.G.

Please Review!


	7. Chapter 7

Another one? So soon?

O.G.

Dear Christine,

Nothing in this world would mean more to me or help me more than your presence. And perhaps you are right. Maybe… maybe there is hope.

I will work on the blueprint.

And Christine? Thank you.

Er-

 _However, right as he was signing another note was given to him. Raising an eyebrow in silent confusion, he opened it. It was Christine's handwriting, even if the message bothered him…_

Phantom,

You asked my favourite poem. Here it is:

The birt **h** plac **e** of a **l** overs wee **p** ing at a lock door

One may f _i_ nd someo _n_ e he is looking fo **r**

Behind that l **o** cked door **m** ight b **e** more

Than someone _b_ argain _e_ d for

In this city may my lov _e_ sleep

While _I_ weep at my locks keep

Still I pray mor _n_ in _g_ s light

One that I shall soon ask someone to fight

That I may see my lover **w** hole

For in this city we may ro **a** m.

From dusk to Dawn

Nigh **t** air to morning's gone

I will **c** ount t **he** secon **d** s _in_ betwee _n_

At the doves **call**

Wh **e** n my lover keeps me

From friend to foe.

Foe to frien **d**

When Cupid's aim be true

Lovers plights true

Lovers lights true

To the end

Catullus wrote that isn't it lovely? He was trained under the watchful eye of Cicero. Though of course it wasn't so lovely what happened to him, Cicero that is. They say he was _murder_ ed. His own family made their _son_ do it. While Cicero's _betrothed_ fainted when she _saw happened._ They say she went insane and **locked her away** in asylum. The _son_ however still visited. He was said to have _felt bad for it._

Still it was unfair what happened to her.

Sorry for rambling. I rather love the history of poets.

Who is your favorite and what poem is yours?

~soon to be De Chagny

O.G.

For a bit of background knowledge. Lovers locked door trope originated in Rome from Catullus.

Cicero was murdered but by a… different set of folk.

He also was not a poet or teacher like that.

Also Romans hated rhyme generally.

Catullus did not write like this

Sorry I had to put a tiny bit of real time action but I think it was worth it. Don't assume too much though. There's more to this than there seems.

And thank you all for the reviews! They really REALLY mean a lot.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you all for the reviews! I'm excited for these more… intricate chapters.

O.G.

Dear Christine,

That was a very enlightening poem. _I_ will have to _see_ if I can find a poem I like that is at the very least, half as good as _you_ rs.

I think my favourite poet is a more recent one, as poe has some very macabre pieces that I find very… _prophetic_ in the nature of man.

My favourite perhaps is tell tale heart which I will summarize as it as rather long. I hope you _do_ want to hear it. It may be a bit harsh for _you_ but it is an interesting piece of philosophy. I _wish_ _for_ you to truly think on it as I feel it can spark conversation. It has quite left the impression on _me_ regardless.

There was once a man. A monster _to_ be really. The man took care of him, and was blind in one eye. The eye looked of death and scared the man. In his fear he ended up _kill_ ing _him._

The man sat for a long moment in paranoia. In horror. Oh should he hide it here _or_ there? Oh what should he _do?_

Ah yes the floor boards. _You_ might be shocked but he ended up hiding his heart in the floorboard. Strange his _want_ for that such a dramatic image. _To be_ _save_ ng the heart in such a _d_ emented way.

Eventually the man was driven mad, hearing I'm his head the guilt through a beating heart coming from the floorboards. Turning himself into the police.

You know that actually reminds me of a story about _Nadir_ now I think on it. He once found that _checking the floorboards_ could reveal many things. Contraband. _Correspondence_. People even! Why once I remember he found some of the kings jewels hidden _under the floorboard of a balcony porch_ of all places! _Do_ you believe it?

Forgive me. I even ramble at the thought of _you_ reading. I know you probably _wish_ I was not so long winded but _for_ the sake of my lonely soul, have _mercy, for_ I am an a bit trapped in my head. Even Nadir _him_ self can be a bit of a bore.

If you like the macabre style tell me. I have many suggestions.

~ your obedient servant, O.G.

O.g.

Soon all will be more clear.


End file.
